


Fearless and Ungrateful

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Asexual Character, Breathplay, Hand Jobs, Low Chaos (Dishonored), M/M, Post-Low Chaos Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7620940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Outsider is never wrong, never satisfied, and never plays favourites. Written for Low Chaos week on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fearless and Ungrateful

The Outsider is used to hunger. He is as much part of the Void as the Void is part of him, and its core is a devouring force, one that takes and takes and takes, and will someday take him as well. Even before this, before the Void, there was a boy who lived on cold streets with an empty stomach.

The Outsider does not believe he has ever known _satisfaction_.

Corvo has starved the Void of late, removing Vera from the playing field and keeping his hands cleaner for Emily Kaldwin than they ever were for her mother, but it is a famine the Outsider planned for long ago. There were many routes Corvo could have taken, and his choice was a pleasant surprise, but not an unpredictable one.

Daud, he did not predict. Daud, who once fed him so well, has retired with a quiet grace the Outsider had not thought him capable of, and this surprise is one that itches.

The Outsider knows Daud, he has watched Daud kill and be killed a thousand times over in a thousand different timelines. He has seen all the futures Daud cut short, swallowed rivers of blood into the Void, and yet Daud's final choices caught him off guard.

It is frustrating and it is delightful, because as chaotic as the Void is, there are still points of order and rules to be followed, and one of them is that the Outsider is never wrong.

Corvo's choices, he predicted. Corvo who had been burned and sliced and broken, but loved his daughter too much to kill in her name.

But Daud? Daud killed without remorse until the day he didn't, and the Outsider burns with curiosity.

 

Daud should be anything but interesting. The Outsider has tried to convince himself of this on more than one occasion.

There have been periods where he did not face Daud for years at a time, curious to see if the absence would destroy him as it had Vera, and yet Daud never breaks, never begs or pleads for attention.

It is always the Outsider who comes to Daud, and when he sets his feet down in Daud's bedroom, for all that he is the voice of the Void, he feels as if it is mocking him for his interest. 

Daud is old and tired and bitter. He should not be interesting.

And yet, he is. 

The Outsider picks up Daud's journal from his bedside, flicks through it idly even though he already knows every word written in its pages, then tosses it onto Daud's stomach.

Daud wakes with a start, wristbow at the ready, but settles the instant he recognises the Outsider. "What do you want?" he growls, fearless and ungrateful as always, and the Outsider tilts his head, smiles insincerely.

"Do I need a reason to visit an old friend?"

"Whatever games you have planned," Daud says, lowering the wristbow and frowning as he moves his journal back to the bedside table, "I want no part in it."

The Outsider's smile fades as he sits down on the bed beside Daud, reaches for the arm bearing Daud's wristbow, and unbuckles it slowly. Daud doesn't say a word, and doesn't move to help or hinder him.

Others have melted in the Outsider's hands for less.

"Why is it you?" the Outsider muses out loud, "Of all my Marked this century, of all the cruel and curious and clever, why are you still interesting?"

Daud doesn't answer the question, but the Outsider can taste the word 'narcissist' in his thoughts. It isn't the right word; Daud is no reflection of him.

The Outsider sets the wristbow on Daud's bedside table, watches its sharp metal catch the morning light and splinter it across the bedroom ceiling. A half-formed thought turns into a full one; Daud is no reflection of him, but perhaps he is something of a mirror.

Daud is sleep-warm when the Outsider peels back the thin bedsheet to straddle him, and he is still built solid all over. He might have given up violence, but not the means to inflict it.

"Enjoying yourself?" Daud asks, and he could so easily be angry - there is so much anger in him, threaded through him from the surface to the centre like veins of ore - but he does not act on it.

It's infuriating. The Outsider draws out what his Marked hide within themselves because he can tear holes through to their cores with ease. The Void rips, rends, devours, and is part of him. It is what he _does_.

But for all that Daud is broken, he is still whole.

"No," snaps the Outsider, and bends to kiss Daud because he's too greedy to pull the man up without tearing his head off. Daud is mortal and scarred and weak, weak, _weak_ by the Void's standards. It will shred Daud when he dies, and the Outsider will miss him.

Daud's hands stroke through his hair, down to his neck, and wrap around his throat, squeezing tight. Their kiss is no less gentle for it, because it isn't a gesture of violence, not truly. Not between the two of them.

Something inhuman bubbles up in the Outsider's throat, and he has to swallow down the urge to sing words not meant for this form's vocal cords. 

It is best not to think of the Void's other children and why he cannot communicate with them, why Daud's skin, any human's skin, sometimes feels wrong when pressed against his own.

The Outsider manages to suppress the song in favour of a keening whine, but it isn't the first time he's come close to singing. Daud pulls the Void's voice from his throat with such consistent ease it's embarrassing, and the Outsider is as flushed and as hard as if he had real blood in his veins.

The Outsider shivers when Daud frees a hand from his neck to stroke down his back, squeezing his ass in encouragement to move closer, and the Outsider follows that request. He only has to shift a little to straddle a broad thigh, and he buries his face in Daud's neck as he grinds down against him, listening to Daud's quiet mutters of "Hush now", and "I've got you". It's comforting, and that is a dangerous thought. Daud will not last forever, none of his Marked ever do. They both know that.

The Outsider wills his clothes away until there is nothing left between his skin and Daud's save the shirt Daud sleeps in, and he wishes Daud was greedier, wishes Daud would fuck him like any other of his Marked would if given the chance. The Outsider has no illusions about his own beauty.

Daud cares for it no more than if he were a painting.

He finds his voice with some effort. "If I asked you to kill again," the Outsider asks, "What would it take to make you say yes?"

Daud tightens his hold on the Outsider's throat, cutting off air he doesn't need, and moves the other hand to the Outsider's cock, pumping it with firm, rough strokes. "What would it take to make you shut up?"

The Outsider lets out a short and desperate laugh before he curls up, bending his head towards his chest, seeking something like comfort in the position. It works for a moment, gives him a chance to catch his breath, but then he realises he can see Daud's hand wrapped around him and it's too much to bear. He's too human like this, too small and too cramped, and he bites down on Daud's chest to silence his cry when he comes.

Reality shivers at the seams for a while after that. Daud's hands bring him back to it gently, rolling him over and wiping down his stomach with something soft, and the Outsider catches sight of the bleeding mark on Daud's chest, wonders if he should feel apologetic about that.

Daud sets the cloth aside and frowns before wiping his thumb across the Outsider's chin, catching something wet; the Outsider licks at it without thinking, and shivers on realising it's his own come. Daud's half-hard cock twitches against the Outsider's thigh in response, and while the Outsider knows Daud will not act on that twitch, he still feels a trace of pride at making him stir that much.

Daud pulls the bedsheet back over them both once he's finished cleaning up, and the Outsider rests his head on Daud's shoulder, lets himself feel the affection he knows he will regret later. "Oh, how I've missed you."

"I never left," Daud says. The words are too stale and tired to be bitter.

"Why would that matter?" the Outsider asks. So many of his Marked take his absences to heart, as if they were personal slights, and he is tired of this argument. Daud, at least, has never begged him to stay. "You will eventually. You're a clever man, Daud. You know why I don't play favourites."

Daud gives him a long look of something that feels uncomfortably like pity before his face softens and he says, "Liar."

 

In a few years' time, Emily Kaldwin will visit Karnaca. The Outsider has seen her passing through it like a shadow, a ghost much like her father, and he has seen her tear through it like a spring razor, leaving the streets bloody and writhing. He does not know which future she will choose, and wonders if he should warn Daud of the possibilities.

He decides not to. Influencing the future has its advantages, but there is a difference between seeing the possibilities, and knowing the outcome. Times like this, where an empire is close to collapse, are few and far between; there is little to alleviate the boredom of immortality in the Void, and he is not ready to stop playing games yet.

Emily might tear Daud apart, but that risk keeps Daud interesting. If the Outsider could lie beside Daud every day with the knowledge he would die of old age or illness, those days would be painfully dull.

By choosing when to talk and when to stay silent, the Outsider knows that any day he visits Daud might be the last, and that makes those visits worthwhile. Daud will think him a bastard to the end for his silences, but there will always be forgiveness tied in with that anger. 

The Outsider knows there is cruelty in his choices, but trusts he has the right to be selfish.

If he must be immortal and never know satisfaction, then why should his Marked be any different?


End file.
